So the whole family made it back home...including my 8-months-pregnant wife. The drive from wintry Chicago was a 3 day affair with the 2 kids, but all is well now.
I'm writing this from Cafe Luna in uptown New Orleans. Right now, I'm lookig across the street at the abandoned Starbucks. Fine, Starbucks, don't come back. We don't want you. Everything going on, and I mean everything, has convinced me to support the locals first when at all possible. That's why I'm drinking coffee at a local coffeeshop, not a national chain.
New Orleanians, as a rule, don't fall for that chain psychosis, like the rest of the country. When we do like chains, they tend to have local origins: the much lamented Schwegmann's, K&B, Canal Villere, and Ruth's Chris. But as for me, I'm never darkening the doors of any Ruth's Chris ever again.
These bastards abandoned New Orleans as soon as possible after Katrina. I call them Evacuees #2. Evacuee #1 is, of course, Tom Benson.
So if you want a good steak, might I recommend The Crescent City Steakhouse. If you're in the quarter, try out Dickie Brennan's when it reopens. Just don't encourage those who want to take the money and run, like the corporation that owns Ruth's Chris.
Finally, this should be a blog entry with no profanity! Huzzah! The thing is, only by dropping an f-bomb every third word can I convey my hatred for everything going on wrong around here. I'm trying to stay in the angry mode, though, because right after this comes the worst stage: hopelessness. By staying angry, I'm avoiding hopelessness.
However, driving down Chef highway in Gentilly, and going through mid-city, I sometimes feel like hopelessness may be winning the fight.
Don't forget us...